


The World Is But A Canvas

by afinch



Category: Bridge to Terabithia - Katherine Paterson
Genre: Fic Corner 2017, Moving On, Post-Canon, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/afinch
Summary: Miss Edmunds pulls some strings to get Jess entered into an art show competition two years after Leslie's death, but her death still sits close to the surface, bubbling into the world and changing it in many different forms.





	The World Is But A Canvas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaraJaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/gifts).



> This is super long, but the plot-bunny overtook me. I tried to balance in as many of your likes as I could! Hope you enjoy!

The art studio had intimidating white walls, and white overhead lights that bathed everything in a weird white glow. Jess instantly felt out of place. He didn't belong here. A quick look around confirmed this, with all the other students' art looking prestigious and perfect. His own art wasn't drawn on the fanciest of papers, with the fanciest of supplies. 

"Miss Edmunds, I don't belong here," he whispered to his old music teacher. His tie itched and he desperately wanted to scratch at his neck, but he had a feeling he was supposed to just live with the pain.

She paid him no mind. "We're booth 44, you have your portfolio?" she asked him.

He nodded numbly and followed her down the maze of booths. Ellie had told him not to get his hopes up and that he wasn't anyone special for Miss Edmunds pulling some strings to get him this art competition. He could have told her that. Sure he'd felt all good about it for a few days and had hastily redrawn some things so they'd be up to snuff, but then the dread of actually showing his art kicked in.

Even his dad had been quiet about it. They'd had an understanding, he and his dad, where he'd do his art, but also aim to be on the track team. "Someone in this family has to go to college," he'd say, and he'd glare at Ellie, who wasn't going to get grades good enough to go anywhere. Nor was Brenda, who was pinning all her hopes on marrying the dumb boy who'd got her all knocked up. Jess thought his dad might be thrilled with the art show. People could get scholarships for art. But he hadn't seemed thrilled about it and had only grunted when signing the permission form. 

"Here we are!" Miss Edmunds exclaimed. "Come on now, I'll help you hang your stuff."

Booth 44 was huge. There was no way Jess had enough art to cover the walls. They'd even given him a small table, with some display easels, but just what he had would only fit on one wall. Jess clutched his "portfolio", which was all just a bag with some cardboard on either side so nothing got crinkled. "Um," he said nervously, looking wildly around. The kid next to him had life-like oil paintings on real canvas and the girl on the other side had exquisite geometric patterns, also on real paper. The signs displaying their name and town looked elegant amongst all their art. Jess glanced at the sign on the table, Jesse Aarons, Grade 8, Lark Creek Middle School. It taunted him with how basic and poor it looked. It would be right at home amongst his art. 

"Don't worry about them," Miss Edmunds whispered. "This is about you. The best artist in all of Lark Creek."

It made him feel a little better, but being the best in all of Lark Creek wasn't much of anything when the worst outside Lark Creek was probably better than him. He unclenched the "portfolio" and handed it to Miss Edmunds. She set it gently on the table and opened it up. 

Jess held his breath as she looked through the art pieces. Her face fell as she shuffled through them and Jess wanted to throw up. Even though he wasn't supposed to, he tugged at his tie. He'd let her down, that was obvious. Her face looked like she was trying too hard to remain calm. After all the strings she'd pulled for him to even be here, and he'd ruined it by being the best artist in all of Lark Creek which amounted for a huge pile of nothing.

"Let's put the family portraits over on this wall, and the woodland scenes and mythical ones on the left wall," Miss Edmunds said, and her voice was tight. "And we'll put all these of Leslie on the back wall, so everyone can see them as they walk by, how does that sound?"

"We don't have to hang the bad ones," Jess said, automatically. He was trying to make it better. "I tried to redo some of them, but I didn't have time …" He trailed off as Miss Edmunds shook her head.

"No, we'll show everything," she said, and Jess noted she didn't correct him and say none of them were bad. "You should pick one from each wall and put them on the table. That will make a nice thematic impact, don't you think?"

Jess didn't have the heart to disagree with her and he set about selecting three. The painting of May Belle as Queen of Terabithia, surrounded by fairy kings and trees was an easy choice, as was the quick sketch of Brenda sitting in the kitchen, yammering on the phone while dinner burned in the background. For Leslie though, he had such a tough choice. He didn't want her face to glare out at the judges, and they already had two portraits for that, so he picked the colored sketch of PT half-sleeping on the porch, one eye open and watching a bird on the banister. He wasn't sure he wanted to stand that close to Leslie anyhow. 

While he was deciding what order to put them in, Miss Edmunds was carefully hanging the rest of the drawings and paintings. When he'd finally decided to just leave them right to left as they were, with PT in the middle, Miss Edmunds was done. Jess was stunned. She'd managed to somehow take his meager drawings and fill the booth with them. 

"There," she said, coming to stand by him. "A real gallery display. I'm going to scope out the competition, you stay here. And try to have fun."

She was gone before Jess could protest. No matter. Her face still looked hard. Like she was trying real hard not to cry. Jess supposed she'd gone to find a toilet to go cry in. She was gone a long while. People drifted by and some stopped to look, but Jess didn't know what to say to them, so he just crooked his mouth awkwardly at them until they left. The girl and boy on the other side of him were animated as they talked to anyone who came within feet of their booth, sometimes even saying hello to people still at his booth. 

Jess wished Miss Edmunds would hurry back and at least tell him what he was supposed to be saying to people. Both his neighbors had their parents with them and when they struggled to say something, their parents would pipe right up. A lot about technique and potential. Jess didn't know what all of that meant, but it was probably stuff they'd learned to say. They'd probably been to lots of these things. 

Every few moments Jess would peek his head down both sides of the makeshift aisle, looking for Miss Edmunds. He thought he saw her down at the end and was going to holler and wave his hands at her, so she'd know where he was, just in case she'd forgotten, but a quiet voice behind his ear said "Hello Jess," and he about died from shock. It was Bill Burke.

* * *

"Hello Jess," Bill said again and Jess must have looked a fright, for Bill smiled and held up his hand. "I didn't mean to startle you. I saw a student from Lark Creek was coming, and I thought it might have been you."

Jess hadn't seen Bill since the days after Leslie's funeral. Since Bill had asked to keep PT and Jess, having no claim to the dog himself, had given the permission that Bill was looking for. A well of emotion surged through Jess and he clenched his fists to keep it under control. PT was staring right at him from the sketch, trapped forever in Jess's memory as a young puppy. He probably didn't even look like that anymore. Jess was surprised to find he was angry about this, but he kept his chin high and stared at Bill. 

"I've got a job that requires me to be in DC," Bill was saying. "Judy and I like how busy it is and how it fills the time."

Neither of them said anything after that and Bill shrugged and finally turned to the paintings. He gasped and nearly fell over and Jess had to move over and grab Bill's arm to make sure he didn't crash all over the table. As it was, he'd knocked the Jesse Aarons, Grade 8, Lark Creek Middle School sign off the table and it fluttered face down to the floor.

"She's right there," Bill whispered, staring at the back wall. Jess wished Miss Edmunds had arranged the paintings differently, so Leslie wasn't right in front. Bill might not have been so startled, then. He wouldn't have turned so white with shock. 

Jess kept his hands on Bill's arm until Bill straightened himself up. "These are really good, Jess," Bill said, his voice tight in the same was Miss Edmunds was. It only just dawned on Jess that maybe she was as shook as Bill had been at seeing a two years old dead girl staring back out at them. He wondered if Bill was shook by seeing how Leslie was caught in the water in most of them. 

In one of them, the trees of the Evil Lords of Terabithia held her head under the raging, violent water. In another, there was no broken rope across the water, and Leslie hung, suspended in a moment, her face wild and free and happy. Her toes barely weren't touching the water and Jess wondered if Bill knew that was just before the rope broke. Another Leslie was the water, swirling and ethereal, but scary at the same time. He'd titled that one "I Was Scared Of The Water" and he hoped Bill didn't think that he'd been afraid of Leslie, ever. That wasn't what the piece was about at all. 

"Really good," Bill repeated, his eyes glistening with tears. Then he excused himself, and Jess was alone, again. 

The mother of the girl next to him peeked inside his booth and Jess impassively stared her down until she turned back to her family. "Just some sketches of some girl," she was telling her family. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, honey."

It was too much for Jess. He angrily tugged at his tie, the one his mother had carefully tied and Miss Edmunds had fixed after too much tugging in the car, until it came loose in his hands. He took a gasping breath and undid the first button of his shirt, too, just so he could breath proper. He looked around frantically for his "portfolio" the stupid backpack that underlined just how out of place Jess really was here. He shouldn't have let Miss Edmunds talk him into this at all. The only thing he could immediately see was the stupid piece of paper announcing what a poor failure he was. Before he could reach down and rip it up in defeat, a well-dressed woman reached down and picked it up. 

"Ah, Jesse Aarons, just the artist we're looking for!" she said cheerily. 

They were the judges. They were the judges, three of them, two men and a woman, standing with clipboards and looking imposing in their impeccable dress. They were the judges and Jess wasn't prepared for them at all. 

He fumbled with his tie, unsure if he should put it back on or not, but a judge cleared that up, "Just put it on the table, son. I'm Mr. Ellis, this is Mr. Dane, and Ms. Avery."

Ms. Avery beamed at him, "Yes, and I think you know my niece, she's over at the high school there, Janice?"

Jess nodded, but inward he was thinking oh great, Janice's aunt, I'm screwed now. While things had been amicable when Leslie was around, after her death Janice seemed to get meaner. She wasn't terrible to Jess or his sisters, not as much as she could have been, but it had definitely been better was Leslie was around. Janice had probably told her aunt all about him and what terrible stock he and his family were. Janice would do that, just to keep someone else from having something nice at all. 

Mr. Ellis seemed to figure out this was an awkward topic and shifted to the art itself. "Let's start on this wall," he said, pointing to the family. "These seem to be capturing people's worst characteristics, could you explain who they are and why this is so?"

It was good, starting with family. Jess found himself talking about his family more than a process for his art, how he liked taking all the annoying things and putting them on paper so he didn't accidentally snap at them and say the wrong thing. It was hard to tell if he was answering the questions correctly, but the judges kept asking, even as they moved over to the Terabithia pieces and Jess relaxed a little more and talked about the make believe world that his sister had inherited.

Then they moved to the back wall, of Leslie, and Jess's throat closed right up. They didn't ask much, and his responses were simple, one-worded answers. 

His head was still foggy as they thanked him for coming and Ms Avery said to say hi to Janice, but he only half-heard her. He heard the judges introduce themselves to Sarah Moore and her geometric prints, but everything rolled fuzzy inside his head. 

"Did I miss it?" Miss Edmunds came out of nowhere and asked.

Jess couldn't even look at her. "You didn't miss much."

* * *

He didn't want to stay for the awards ceremony, but Miss Edmunds said it was good form to stay and applaud for the winners. He reluctantly agreed that was true, but decided he wasn't going to get excited about any of it. His art was still in the booth, Miss Edmunds said tearing down the booths happened after, but not to worry about it. She hadn't said anything about the tie, and didn't press for any information about what the judges had said.

Nor had he told her about Bill showing up. 

One of the judges, Mr. Ellis was giving a speech about the next generation of young artists and how they should all be proud to be standing there, representing their schools. Jess shifted on his feet a little bit at that, but Miss Edmunds touched his arm gently and he forced himself to stand still. Now the judge was talking about how hard this had been, because they were all good and they didn't need to feel like bad artists if they didn't win, because everyone was spectacular. Then he stepped back from the microphone and someone Jess didn't know was ready to announce the winners. Before he got to that, he reiterated that all the artists were spectacular. 

Jess wondered if this was a thing that rich people did. Or maybe it was just artists. But down at Lark Creek, you didn't get pats on the back for anything. If everyone was spectacular, there'd be a lot of ties for first place. He wanted to tell Miss Edmunds this, but she wouldn't find it funny. Leslie would have laughed. She would have laughed and told him about how it was supposed to go, and why people got told they were spectacular when they weren't. Something about cultural norms and hurt feelings, probably. 

He was so caught up in wondering, he missed the second-runner-up being called. Everyone was clapping for the boy, and Jess could tell where they were looking at him, but they didn't make him get up on stage or anything. Probably enough embarrassment just being clapped at. He wanted them to hurry up. First runner up. Then third place - which made no sense, but he wasn't going to say anything. Then Geometric Sarah won second place and squealed in delight and Jess wanted to throw up. 

Finally first place went to some boy named Philip Bronson and he could get out of these lights and fancy and fakery and get back to where he belonged. 

"Can we go now?" he asked Miss Edmunds, who nodded. The two of them moved towards the back, and down the aisle where his booth was. 

"Did you have fun?" she asked and Jess didn't have the energy to lie to her. He shook his head. She only nodded again and began to unclip the art from inside the booth. They worked in silence, Jess red-faced and angry, Miss Edmunds calm, but her eyes were still dark.

Sarah and her parents came to their booth, all of them animated and excited about her second-place finish. Their babble drifted into the silent booth 44; they talked about scholarship opportunities, and what this would look like on her transcripts. They said she was going to go places and Sarah only laughed and said she was sorry for being worried about nothing.

She meant it at him, he knew. He was nothing. Just simple sketches.

Before he could ruminate on this, Sarah's mother excitedly chirped, "Here comes Charles Dane now, don't look so proud. Just pleased, honey." To her husband, she said, "I knew someone would be back, he couldn't take his eyes off her stuff."

Jess angrily shoved art into his backpack, some of them crinkling towards the bottom, but Miss Edmunds stopped him and took the bag. "Let me," she said quietly. "Why don't you go freshen up before we head home?"

She'd heard too and was giving him a chance to get away. He nodded and nearly fell out of the booth, crashing into Mr. Dane. The older man disentangled himself, but didn't seem too upset at all. 

"Not leaving in a rush, are we?" he asked. 

Jess just shrugged. He could feel Sarah's mother shooting daggers at his back and he edged back towards the booth. "Err, sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Mr. Dane said. "I was in a rush myself. Wanted to make sure I caught you before you left."

"Me?" Jess was confused. "No, you want the booth next door. Sarah-something. The second-place winner. I didn't win anything." He may have been a poor kid from the country, but they couldn't say he didn't have _manners_. 

Mr. Dane nodded, "Yes, I'm sorry you didn't place. You have a lot of raw talent, but your technique needs improvement. That's why I'm here. Is this your mother?" He nodded at Miss Edmunds, who came forward, her eyes wide. Behind them, Sarah and her family were exchanging hushed conversations about what was going on. 

Miss Edmunds smiled at him, a charming smile that put even Jess at ease. "I'm his old music teacher, chaperoning him as it were. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, I'd like to offer Jesse a scholarship for the fall and spring semesters." He handed Miss Edmunds a card and a pamphlet. "It covers supplies and half the cost of tuition, the package is laid out at the bottom of the second …"

Jess's head got fuzzy and he felt like he couldn't breathe. Someone wanted him to go to his fancy art school? But he hadn't won anything. He hadn't even placed as a runner-up. Why him and not Sarah? Or even the boy on the other side of him, who was loads better than him?

He was jolted by the rumbling tones of Sarah's father, "Excuse me, Charles, what is the meaning of this?" The man looked furious and he wanted to say that Sarah could have it, he couldn't go, even with half of it paid, because his dad still struggled with work and this year there wasn't spare money for new school shoes, let alone a fancy private art academy in the city. 

"Psst, don't pay him any mind, Sarah's a sore loser," said a voice behind him. It was the boy in the booth on the other side of him. He looked mildly amused at the antics of Sarah's father and the way Mr. Dane kept holding his hand up to stop him. 

"She won first place last year, and they gave the scholarship to the second place winner, so I imagine she thought she had it in the bag this year, taking second. And then they go and give the scholarship to someone who didn't even place - no offense - and I'll bet they're threatening to pull their donor money. It's like they don't even understand what a scholarship is _for_ , they just want the prestige of claiming one on college transcripts. Oh, and I'm Blaze by the way, don't laugh, my parents joined the hippie movement just early enough to name me. My brother has the much more normal sounding name of Topher."

The boy said this all quickly and Jess tried to keep up. "Jess," he said after a moment. "Jess Aarons. From Lark Creek. You and Sarah know each other?"

"We're both up at the academy," the boy answered. "Each school can send their top five, but we get to send ten on account of sponsoring it. You're the only one from Lark Creek, then? I've never heard of it, I asked my mom, she said it's pretty far outside the city. Quite a commute, if you come? You should come, it's fantastic, and you do have real talent. I really like the one you had up of the girl sitting on the floor and everyone walking around her hands full, but you can tell by her pile of things that she takes something from everyone. Reminds me of my sister, actually, always needing to be the center of attention and getting in everyone's way. Is she your sister?"

Blaze again said this all very fast and Jess tried to piece everything together. The picture Blaze was talking about was still hanging, so Jess fetched it and showed the boy, "This one?" Blaze's face lit up with a smile and Jess couldn't help himself, and smiled back, it was contagious. "This is Joyce Ann. Upset Brenda's having a baby and she won't be the baby anymore. She's trying to get as much out of it as she can before …" he trailed off, suddenly self-conscious. 

Blaze didn't seem to mind and picked right up where Jess left off, "Yea, before it's all gone. Trying to get a lifetime of it in. Brenda's my sister, actually, so it's funny you have a Brenda, too. She doesn't have the excuse of a new baby for the way she acts, though."

He tried to hand the picture back, but Jess shook his head, "You can have it. Since it means so much to you." Besides, he could just draw another one, easy. Joyce Ann was easy material. Blaze looked shocked at this and quickly took the sketch and left. Before Jess could turn around and see if Sarah's parents, Miss Edmunds, and Mr. Dane had worked something out, Blaze reappeared, holding a small canvass.

"Here, a trade's only fair. I don't know what you like, but this is the lake they made when I was a kid just after we moved here. Lake Kittamaqundi, you sound like you could use something peaceful to look at when you're at home. Anyway, we're leaving, but if you do come, I'll be in 11th year and I can show you around, give you advice on handling all the teachers and stuff. Bye!"

Jess thought that even if by some miracle he could go, there was no way he'd ever be able to keep up with the speed of Blaze's sentences. He stared after the boy, only realizing after he disappeared around the corner that he hadn't said thank you. 

"That's what I like to see," Mr. Dane said from behind him and Jess jumped. Sarah and her family had gone and just Miss Edmunds remained. She looked right as rain and it only made Jess sad. He wasn't going to be able to go, so why was she all happy about it? It was cruel to give him the hope of going and then snatch it from him because he couldn't afford it. 

"You've got good character, Jesse, you'll make a great addition to the academy. We'll help you out with your confidence too, yes? Have your parents call this week so we can get you in before term starts."

* * *

"Why did Blaze say it was only fair to give me this?" Jess asked Miss Edmunds once they were safely back in the car back to Lark Creek. "Mine was just on paper and with some pencils and this is …" It was gorgeous swirls of fine oil paint on a canvas pulled tight over a wood frame. He didn't know anything about the lake, or even where it was, or why there was a man-made lake, but it probably had something to do with the 'explosive' development the area was getting. Not that it made finding work any easier for his father. 

Miss Edmunds looked at the painting, "I think that's north of the city, in Maryland. As for why he gave it to you, I think he thought he couldn't accept your offer without giving something of his own for it."

Jess just nodded and looked back at the painting. It wasn't a fair trade at all, he'd come out much better on the deal, getting something of more value. 

As if reading his mind, Miss Edmunds added, "You gave him something that moved him; a piece of art he could find his own story it. I'm sure he's sitting in his own car right now thinking 'and why did that boy just give it me? I hope he likes what I gave him, it's not nearly as good as what I got from him'."

Jess thought Miss Edmunds was full of it but he didn't say anything and they sat in silence the rest of the way home. 

Once at the house he ignored the teasing of the girls that he hadn't won any place at all, not even a runner-up spot. He thrust the pamphlets and the card into his father's hands, explaining, "I won a scholarship, but it's alright, I know I can't go" and went to his room for the rest of the night. He didn't go down for dinner, and that was okay by him. It took him a long time to fall asleep and when he did, he dreamed of Leslie.

He woke with a start in the morning and realized he'd forgotten about the cow. He hastily threw on some pants and tried to thunder down the stairs as quietly as possible. It was later than he'd thought, Brenda, Ellie, and his mother were up in the kitchen. May Belle was asleep in the living room, curled up like a cat on their father's chair. Both Brenda and Ellie looked like they were about to explode with excitement. 

"Your father did the milking," his mother said. "You had a long day and needed the sleep."

"Ma, you gotta tell him about Bill," Brenda burst out, her belly just starting to show.

Jess looked at his mother, "Bill? Bill Burke? What about him?"

"Hush up and eat your eggs," was all she said in reply. She wagged the spoon at Brenda, but didn't whack her with it. "You shut your mouth."

"What about Bill?" Jess pushed.

Ellie grinned at him, "Called daddy last night. Said he wants to buy all your Leslie paintings. He wants to pay ten thous-"

Whatever qualms his mother had about hitting Brenda while pregnant, she didn't with Ellie and she smacked her oldest daughter on the head with the spoon. "I said _hush_. Jess, Mr. Burke will be here for lunch. Wear your nice blue shirt."

"What should I wear?" asked Brenda.

Their mother sighed, "Lord, Brenda, I don't care as you won't be in the room, or near the room. This is between Jess and Mr. Burke."

"Think of all the stuff we could buy for the baby," Brenda hissed at him. The implied 'you'd better not mess this up' didn't need to be said. 

Jess wasn't hungry anymore, but he gulped down his eggs anyway. Lunch was a few hours away, so he had time to sort things out. He headed for Terabithia, leaving a note on the bridge for May Belle to leave him be. Sometimes she wrote a note saying she needed 'privit cownsil' with the Terabithians and Jess always honored the note. It would be rude to interrupt a queen. 

May Belle had been sleeping, so it was a shock to see someone else there. She was kneeling, and crying piteously, as though her life depended on it. It took Jess a moment to recognize her.

"Janice?"

The older girl, and sometimes bully, jumped up with a jolt. 

"What are you doing here?" she said meanly as she wiped her face with her blouse. "Aunty Linda called daddy last night, so excited, told him all about how you and how you won a scholarship and were getting out of here."

Janice sniffled and continued, "And when daddy asked why I didn't get to go and Aunty Linda said only those with lots of artistic talent could go …"

She started crying again. Jess didn't need her to tell him what the angry Mr. Avery had done upon hearing his daughter wasn't good enough to win a heaping sum of money. 

"I was the only one from Lark Creek," Jess said, as though that could make up for anything. "And I'm not going anyway, it was for only half the money." He kindly did not add, 'your daddy's stupid for thinking anyone from here manages to get out of here' for hadn't he briefly been entertaining the idea himself?

Janice looked at him blankly. "But you made a grown man cry and he was so touched by your art he went to them afterward and told them he'd pay the rest," she explained and suddenly everything clicked into place. 

Why Bill was coming. Why he was offering thousands of dollars for the simple artwork. Even the whole conversation with Blaze made sense in this new context. Why Mr. Avery had been so very angry. Janice made people cry in the wrong ways and they all knew it. If someone cried over her art, it wasn't because it made them feel touched. 

He didn't know how to address Mr. Avery and what he was doing to Janice. He had a feeling Janice didn't want to address it either.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead, but he asked it friendly enough.

Janice looked like she'd been caught stealing, "I only come when nobody else is likely to be here, and I stay away if there's a sign on the bridge. I been coming since just after she died and nobody notice til now. I ain't messed up anything or stealed anything that was left here, honest."

She wasn't being mean, wasn't telling him she could come whenever she wanted and that there was a bridge and the bridge didn't belong to him. She was still trembling from the hands that had laid on her last and she looked scared that Jess was going to add his own marks to her skin.

Jess had no notion of doing such a thing, not over just _being_ here. If she'd been trying to destroy it, yes, he would have to defend Terabithia, but right now, it was just dry, rocky, dirt with a squiggle of trees.

"Yea," Jess said. "Yea, I bet Leslie woulda showed you the place, eventually. She uh-"

And he didn't know what to say. He hadn't spoken to Janice about Leslie since her death. Saying something now, in Terabithia, felt _wrong_ somehow. 

Janice picked up on this and didn't say anything either. Eventually Jess settled against a tree, and Janice followed against another, and the two children sat in contemplative silence, until Janice spoke, "Why'd you two like coming here anyway? There ain't nothing to do."

Did he tell her, did he not tell her? The trees rattled, whispering amongst each other, and Jess let them talk until he knew what their answer was. 

"This is our Terabithia," he said. "Our kingdom, of princes and ladies and treefolk. But we have to respect them, or they won't come out and show themselves to us, won't let us lead them."

Janice looked around at this, her gaze settling on the trees, which were welcoming her, if she chose to listen. 

"And nobody's daddy beats 'em in Terabithia?" she asked after a moment. 

"Oh, no," Jess said quickly. "The only harm comes from outside, and that's when we take arms and defend Terabithia and the Terabithians. If someone's daddy was beating them, we'd kick them out and banish them."

"Good," Janice smiled, leaning back against the tree, the sun bathing her face in a warm glow.

Lord, May Belle was going to kill him for bringing Janice in, but Janice was already in. Not to mention, Janice already respected the rules of Terabithia. Once in, it was impossible to get out. Janice looked at peace for possibly the first time ever in her life. She wasn't so mean, not when you understood where she was coming from. Leslie would have approved of this, Jess knew. Leslie probably would have asked her sooner than now to come in anyway. 

"Tell me more about them, the Terabithians," Janice said, but not in a way that was an order. More like a suggestion.

Jess took the suggestion and answered, explaining everything about Terabithia that he could think of. He told of epic battles, and heroines as well as damsels in distress and how they had been saved. He talked until his throat felt way and all the while, Janice never moved, eyes closed, and smile on her face. 

"When I die, I want to go somewhere like this," Janice said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I keep coming back here, when I need to?"

"Someone's gotta keep an eye on May Belle while I'm on the bus to and from the academy," Jess said without thinking about it. 

Janice opened an eye at him, "I wish I could get out of this town and away-"

"You can," Jess said quickly before she could finish. "You ain't stupid, Janice. Just don't go get yourself knocked up like Brenda did. Never mind college, you can go secretary at the energy company." And leave your dad with his booze, he thought, but did not say. 

"And May Belle? She'll be okay if I'm here?"

"She knows the rules and if you follow 'em, you'll both be fine. Respect Terabithia and its inhabitants," Jess said. He'd make sure after the meeting with Bill that May Belle understood as well. 

Judging by the sun, he had about half an hour before lunch. Much as he hated to leave Terabithia, he did, leaving Janice behind to her peace. It was like a painting in real-life, handing Terabithia to Janice. It spoke to her, moved her in a way art was supposed to. And he hadn't given anything in return, had he? Except his blessing, but did that count? Was it always give and take? Maybe it wasn't. 

Maybe Blaze and Miss Edmunds didn't have it all right. Maybe what Bill was trying to do wasn't all right either, there was a bit of guilt and wrong tossed in. Maybe there was a different way for Bill to do what he was doing that would sit right with the both of them. Something that wasn't so full of give and take and obligation. 

He pondered this as he made his way back to the house to quickly wash up and put on his good blue shirt. When he came back downstairs, all his Leslie drawings and paintings and sketches were laid out carefully on the table. His dad had a suit on, and his mom was wearing her Sunday dress. The rest of the house was dead silent and Jess didn't dare ask where the girls had gone.

They waited together at the table in silence until the car pulled into the drive.

* * *

"No," Jess said, his voice sounding more forceful than he'd intended in response to Bill's offer to buy all the art of Leslie for ten thousand dollars.

He'd shocked his parents. His mother's face went immediately white. "Jesse Oliver Aarons," his father said, like he was swearing. Even Bill looked uncertain.

Jess shook his head, "No, you can have 'em. They're not good enough to be bought."

Bill smiled kindly, but his voice was strained, "Jess, these are phenomenal. They're … you've captured so much of what made Leslie, Leslie in these. They're priceless. Please let me pay you for them."

His voice tinged of desperation. From the corner of his eye, Jess could see his mother gripping his father's hand tightly.

Jess shook his head again, "No. They got a lot of raw talent, but the technique is raw too, and not what it should be. You can have them. But-" He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "But I got this opportunity to turn them into something worth something to more than just you and I need some help with that, which I think you're here to offer to me. If you help with that, I'll keep giving you whichever ones you want, at least until they can make some money on their own and someone else wants to try to buy 'em. That way … that way it stays about just the art."

He'd been staring at the table as he said this, Leslie swimming both literally and figuratively in front of him. He only looked at the happy ones. She smiled and ducked through the trees of Terabithia, PT barking happily along behind her. She swam in the gentle waters of the creek, the water looking like it was on fire from the sun. She winked at him, like she knew a secret he didn't. When he looked up, his mother had tears dripping down her cheeks, and his father looked sad. Bill, however, was beaming. 

"I think we have a deal," Bill said, reaching his hand across the table. 

Jess hesitated, and looked up at his father, who nodded. He didn't look sad. He looked … almost regretful. He hesitated again, and this time his father gave a small smile with his nod. Jess shook Bill's hand, both of their palms warm and wet. It wasn't a fair deal by any means, but Jess wondered if they both were thinking the other person had got the bigger slice of it.

The rest Jess could hardly remember. The two men talked about how to get Jess to the bus in Fairfax that would take him to the city, while his mother asked tons of questions about what was covered under "supplies". They talked about a bank account for just Jess and his school funds, one the girls wouldn't have access to. They talked about college and potential and leaving Lark Creek behind.

Only after Bill left, with all of the Leslie paintings and drawings, did Jess consider how selfish he was being. How could he leave Lark Creek behind when his family was here? There were a lot of mouths to feed, and not enough work to go around to feed them. Who would milk the cow?

"I'm sorry," he said, desperately as Bill's car pulled down the drive. "We can get him back, I can use the money for the family and get all the things for the baby and for-"

"Jesse Oliver Aarons," his father said for the second time in an hour. "You will do no such thing. You will go to that school and you will learn, and you will learn more than art. You will consider running on the track team, just to give me a little happiness. And when you are done, I don't care what you do, so long as you don't come back here and lead a life like mine. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," Jess said, his voice small. He looked at the floor. He hadn't meant to upset his father by the offer. Lord knew the Aarons family could use the money. It wasn't right for Jess to take all of it, but he had, without even thinking of the consequences of keeping the money from Brenda and Ellie and his parents. 

"Good," his father said. "And the next time you get the idea to use some fancy wordplay because you been worrying about things you ain't got cause to, give me warning. Almost gave me a heart attack, boy. Right on the kitchen floor and in front of company too. Saying no to free money and an opportunity that's a miracle to get. I almost killed you on the spot."

Jess smiled at this. His father didn't sound all that mad. Almost pleased. Almost proud. Sure enough, when Jess met his father's eyes, his old man smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Lake Kittamaqundi was built in Columbia, MD in 1966. Meaning Blaze has quite the commute to school himself!


End file.
